


White Cloud

by morrezela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Demons, M/M, Possession, Soulmates, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-08
Updated: 2013-03-08
Packaged: 2017-12-04 15:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/712131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is a demon who isn't very good at his job. Then he gets worse when Mr. Hot Ass Angel starts showing up</p>
            </blockquote>





	White Cloud

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes you find are my own.

Sam has always known that he isn’t cut out for the demon life. In the vague recesses of his mind, he remembers going down when he got run over by that stupid bicyclist at that place, he thinks it was a college, but it was so long ago that the details are fuzzy. He also remembers that he knew there was a mistake. He thinks that he had a good reason to think that. He can’t remember what it was exactly, but he does know that even if he had the best reason ever, nobody in The Pit would care.

Demons thrive off the pain and suffering of others, and something in Sam had whispered that he should keep his mouth shut and not protest because it would just make things worse.

So, you know, a few years of torture and a lot of lying, “Of course I don’t have a problem killing innocent women and taking candy from babies! Whatever man! You’re all losers!” later, Sam was put out on assignment.

Of course, lying to all of those nasty bastards caused its own problem. Sam was horrible at his job. He just didn’t want to possess anybody, okay? And when he did, he wasn’t so keen on the taking of their souls. Sure some of those losers that came looking for a crossroads deal were evil bastards out for their own selfish wants, but some of them were just plain desperate.

It got worse when Mr. Shiny Pants started showing up.

He was an angel; that much Sam knew. The fancy wings and burning fury of righteousness was a honking big clue.

What he didn’t understand was the lack of smiting. Mr. Shiny Pants just stood there looking all hot and sexy as he glowered disapprovingly at Sam’s soul stealing antics.

It gave him performance anxiety is all. He didn’t feel bad about his job, he didn’t! He wasn’t intimidated by no stinking angel! Let Super Sexy and his Shiny Sword of Truth stand there and stare with his soulful and sad, green eyes. Sam didn’t care.

Only he kind of did in a totally lustful and non-meaningful way because he kept putting loopholes in his contracts, and hunters kept rescuing his victims with them. The bastards weren’t even showing up to exorcise him anymore because they figured it was better to have him topside than some demon that was actually good at the job.

He’d already been written up, by which he means strung up on a rack and tortured for a while, for his contract mistakes. He’d gotten the, “We expect more out of you, son. You have so much potential. You’re supposed to be KING!” speech. It rankled in a way that it shouldn’t. It made his mostly eroded human memories kick up and start screaming. It gave him nightmares about black cars and blacker nights and crying green eyes that he walked away from.

After his last go ‘round with his superiors, Sam was back on track. He was doing good, mostly because his last three clients had been two drug dealers and a pimp. They were already on the train down under, and he didn’t mean Australia.

Then this tiny little girl shows up begging for her baby sister’s life, and it’s Sam’s bad luck that Mr. Sexy Ass shows up not three seconds after Sam is summoned. Only this time, Mr. Sexy actually interrupts the deal to whisper something in the girl’s ear.

Sam isn’t ashamed to admit that he kind of hopes that the angel is promising that the little girl’s sister is going to be fine. Sam doesn’t know how a kid her age knows to summon him because kids shouldn’t be taught that shit. They should be loved and protected and shouldn’t be given a gun instead of a hug and a glass of warm milk, but bad parenting doesn’t mean that the kid should pay for her father’s mistakes.

“Oh, and I want Sam Winchester’s body too. Please?” The girl asks as soon as the angel steps away.

And, okay, that pisses Sam off because the angel is clearly manipulating the poor kid into doing his dirty work and the angel isn’t supposed to do that! He’s supposed to be all goodness and light and not a manipulative ass.

Glowering, Sam turns on the no-longer-so-sexy angel, “You want that body? You come make the deal for it.”

The angel arches a single eyebrow at him in return, and Sam is struck with a brilliant thought. He doesn’t have to take the girl’s soul if he can get an angel. That has to be worth beaucoup points in the cosmic scales.

“I’ll throw in the kid’s sister for a freebie.” Sam offers, his oiliest smile coming to the surface.

The angel nods and doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold of Sam’s vessel, some short, aging Mexican illegal immigrant who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and kisses him.

It rankles because Sam is used to being the one in control, but he lets the feeling slide. Angel lips is a good kisser. It would probably be the best deal kiss that Sam had ever gotten if the guy’s accessory didn’t keep burning against his skin.

Damned magical amulets hurt worse than holy water. It’s a constant, burning pressure. At least the water evaporates after you start steaming.

Sam struggles away and snaps his fingers. He sends the little girl home as a side benefit. If he also zaps some literature on abusive homes and clean, moral living with her, that’s his own business, okay?

The angel doesn’t take off with the body that’s at his feet. In fact he just stands there staring at it, so Sam feels he should stare too.

The guy is seriously tall. He’s an adult, but his muscles haven’t fully come in yet. He’s got this horrible haircut that is too close to a bowl cut for Sam’s comfort. It’s seriously emo and shouldn’t be worn by a male over the age of twelve.

“So, you looking for a new vessel?” Sam asks after a moment. He should’ve asked for details before he made the deal, but he didn’t. He can’t go back and change the past now.

“No. Don’t exactly have one. Just ended up in the middle of a fight with some badass angels. Swallowed a vial of fallen grace, and here I am.”

Sam feels his meat suit’s heart stutter in his chest. “You’re not an angel?”

Pouty Lips smirks in his direction. “Just a super powered hunter,” he confirms. “But some of my compatriots are getting it in their heads that I need to be hunted, right? So I need somebody to watch my back.”

“And tall, dead and handsome is going to help with that how?” Sam asks, unable to keep his curiosity at bay.

“He’s my brother.” Sexy Ass answers.

“Okay… but he’s still dead, and you just sold me your soul. Which if you were actually an angel might work out for you, but you’re kind of still human and…”

Sam gets cut off with another kiss. This time the guy’s seriously fugly necklace isn’t the only thing burning him. His lips feel like they’re being serrated, and there is a burning sensation all over. It’s like all of his nerves have had Tabasco sauce dripped directly on them.

He’s been exorcised before. He’s intimate with that feeling, but this is different. When Mr. Danger Lips pulls away, Sam’s meat suit is a crumpled mess in the summoning circle. He’s babbling and praying to God in Spanish.

Sam can see, though how he’s never understood, his cloud in the reflection of a nearby car windshield. He’s all puffy white clouds like normal. He’s gotten So. Much. Shit. for that over the years from other demons - no black whorls for him. 

As the angel-hunter, hunter-angel? Superman? Whatever. As he crouches to loom over the prone body of his brother, Sam gets the strangest feeling that he’s seen that damn windshield before, but he doesn’t have a chance to remember where before he’s in a three-way kiss with Angel Man and his dead brother.

It’s kind of kinky for a split second before it’s just painful. It’s the opposite of being exorcised. Sam feels frozen and cold and stiff all over. Then he opens his eyes and stares at the angel that is looming over his new vessel.

“Dean?” he asks though he doesn’t know why.

“Hey, Sammy,” the man, Dean replies.

“I… You…”

“Just fucked a whole bunch of demons way the hell over. I’m awesome.” Dean says with a self-satisfied grin.

“I don’t understand.” Sam whines. Only that isn’t true. His memory is coming back in weird little chunks, and he might not know what’s going on, but he does know that Hell had no right to take him, and that getting run over by a bicyclist was a fucking embarrassing way to die.

“Well, let’s just put it this way: they didn’t play by the rules, so they’re losing their investment.” Dean replies as he pulls Sam to his feet.

Sam sways for a moment as he tries to get used to the feeling of being so tall again. His mind is whirring, trying to accept and process information, but there is one thing that they have to work on ASAP.

“Dean, your soul!”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dean tells him as he starts moving them towards the Impala.

“Don’t worry? DON’T WORRY?!” Sam yells as he breaks out of his brother’s grasp. He’s not sure what exactly is going on, but he does know that demon deals are bad news.

“Look, long story short is that they didn’t have a right to take you, okay? And because of that you never quite morphed into what they needed because you didn’t belong to them. So your soul was all intact even if it was forced into a pretty impressive pretzel. Follow me so far?” Dean asks.

Sam nods, and Dean continues, “So I got all juiced up and just had to wait until there was enough of your soul showing to grab hold of it and put it back where it belonged, but I made the deal with you, Sammy. And you’re not exactly a demon.”

“Doesn’t matter, they’ll…”

“They’ll try, but… Don’t freak out, okay?”

Sam glares at his brother, because he already is freaked out. There isn’t much farther he can go with the emotion.

“My soul already sort of belonged to you because yours already belonged to me. I didn’t give you anything you didn’t already own.”

Sam blinks a few times before an incredulous, “What?” comes out of his mouth.

“Just get in the car, Sam. I’ll explain soul mates to you on the way to Albuquerque. If we drive straight there, we can go to that little pancake joint you like.”

“The one you like, Dean.” Sam corrects automatically because the rest of his brain is too busy spinning its wheels to come up with anything else.

“You love them, don’t lie.” Dean retorts as he opens the driver’s side door.

Sam doesn’t bother denying the accusation as he climbs into the passenger’s side because he vaguely remembers the taste of blueberries and maple syrup, and even if it doesn’t taste anywhere as sweet as that brief taste of Dean’s lips, he figures that empty calories is a far less serious crime than wanting to kiss your own brother. And he really intends on doing that kissing thing a few more times.

Sam’s not quite ready to give up all his evil ways just yet.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] White Cloud / written by morrezela](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2736137) by [EosRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EosRose/pseuds/EosRose)




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